A Stirring from Salem (18 page)

Dressed in lightweight khakis and an open shirt, John felt the breeze as he opened the door for room service. Marlena would be back soon, and if he knew his “Doc” well, she’d be famished. He waved the waiter inside.

The African waiter placed the ebony wood tray on the table nearest the lounge chair, the one with the best view of the wonderment that was Africa. Under the silver domes were beautiful shrimp cocktails and an assortment of local fruits and breads. A bottle of champagne rested nearby in an ice bucket.

John tipped the waiter, who bowed and exited on cat feet, and then made sure bubble bath and oils were ready near the claw-foot tub.

“You deserve to be pampered, Doc,” he said. “The best for my best.”

The sound of vultures cawing in the distance caught his attention. He moved to the deck and looked into the vastness.

“What’s in the air today?” he asked himself rhetorically.

He heard footsteps from the walkway approaching the suite. Excited, he popped open the champagne. He heard the door open and turned back toward it to greet his wife. And stopped cold.

Marlena stumbled into the room, escorted by Bill Horton.

“Hiiiii…” Marlena giggled as she moved out of Bill’s arms.

“Well, hello,” John said as he gave Bill a quizzical look.

Marlena was clearly tipsy, which John hadn’t expected.

“It went well today, I guess,” John said as Marlena smiled broadly.

“Joe broke his arm,” she slurred. “He thought he could fly,” she added, extending her arms.

“Okay, maybe not so well,” John said. “So you guys were celebrating what then?”

“What—?” Marlena asked. “My, am I exhausted. You would have loved it, John,” she rambled. “The women create these gorgeous tapestries, all to help each other survive. I’d forgotten how beautiful they are. Amazing. Just soooo amazing.”

She was getting drowsier by the minute. Her head dipped as she tried to shake off her fogginess. “Is that champagne?” she asked, seeing the bottle. “I am thirst-y.”

“I think you may have had enough, Doc,” John said gently.

“Enough?” she said. “We haven’t had any,” she said as she walked over to the table.

She raised a glass in a toast. “To the most wonderful man in the world—and to my husband,” she said, looking between Bill and John. She was giddier than John had seen her in ages.

When she’d finished the glass, she set it on the nearby table and sank into the large comfy chair.

“Sure…you haven’t had any alcohol today,” John said, giving her a look of disbelief.

She shook her head slowly.

“Actually, we haven’t,” Bill told him. He was as confused as John. “I know they didn’t have any while they were working, and at the clinic all we had was iced tea.”

Marlena was beginning to doze off. The champagne she had just added to her system would only amplify the effect of the drug she’d unknowingly ingested.

“I think I’d better get her into bed,” John said.

“Maybe I should help you,” Bill said, pointing at Marlena, now sound asleep and dead weight in the chair.

“I’ve got it, but thanks,” John answered. “When did she start acting all…like that?” he said, swirling his hands around his head.

“About halfway over here she started to get spacey,” Bill told him. “Really out of character for her. I guess there’s a lot of that going around lately,” he added, thinking about himself.

“Well, thanks for bringing her back,” John said with a tone that Bill knew meant John was asking him to leave.

“’Welcome,” Bill said. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” John answered, his thoughts only on his inebriated wife.

Bill headed for the door as John swept Marlena up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

At the door, Bill stopped and looked back. Well…not exactly the time to ask a man for a barrel of money, he said to himself, and he slowly exited.

John tenderly took off Marlena’s shoes and placed her in a comfortable sleeping position. She was out like a light. “Are you okay, baby?” he asked as he brushed the hair from her forehead.

The phone rang and she stirred slightly. He picked it up quickly to keep from waking her.

“John Black here,” he answered.

“John, it’s Jackson Gaines. I’m here with Chance, and you’re the only one who can help us.”

The drive from Tom-Ali to Steve and Kayla’s home wasn’t long, but it was a tense one. Kayla’s jaw was set as she held Joe on her lap. While she knew having him ride without a seatbelt was dangerous, she needed to comfort the little boy who had discovered he couldn’t really fly.

Every time the Jeep hit a bump, Joe whimpered in pain. They were reminded of just how primitive the roads were with every jostle.

When the Jeep stopped, Joe rested his head against Kayla’s chest. The stillness and her warmth were a comfort.

“Wait in Mommy’s arms until I come and get you,” Steve said.

“I want her to carry me,” Joe answered. He wouldn’t look at his dad. After Kayla’s outburst at Mapusha, Joe was convinced this wasn’t his fault but his father’s.

“We all make mistakes, Joe,” Steve said calmly. “Sometimes they’re just a little more painful.”

Joe didn’t respond, and Kayla was distant. “Could you open the door, please?” she asked with a tone stripped of emotion.

“Sure thing,” Steve answered.

He climbed out of the driver’s side and went around to open the door for Kayla.

“The cast won’t be completely set for another few hours, so you need to keep the sling on. Okay, sweetie?” Kayla asked gently.

Joe nodded.

Kayla tried to get out of the car with Joe on her lap, but that was impossible. So Patch gingerly hoisted his son to the ground. Movement was still painful, though, and Joe yelped.

“Mommy!”

Kayla slipped out of the front seat, taking Joe’s good arm and guiding her frightened son away from Patch and into the house.

***

Joe had been up all day without a proper nap and was exhausted from his experience. Kayla took him into his room without speaking to her husband. She was still a jumble of emotions.

Steve took an icy mug and a chilled wineglass out of the freezer, and poured them each a libation.

After a while, Kayla appeared from Joe’s room. Steve handed her a glass of her favorite white.

“You’ve gotta forgive me at some point, Sweetness,” Steve said. “I thought Beauty had it covered.”

“I know…I do,” she said as she took the glass. She found it hard to stay mad at him for long. “But you understand why I have to fire her and do not want her caring for Joe.”

“Yeah, unfortunately I do,” he answered. “She’s a great kid, but you have to have people you can totally trust.”

Kayla took a sip of her wine, and her eyes met his. “I let myself down with those awful thoughts I had when that boy was trying to help Joe. And then Cornelius let me down in a huge way. Not having the van totally stocked is unforgivable.”

She was adamant, and Steve felt a twinge of guilt.

“I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Like what?” Kayla snapped. “He’d known for two days that we were going out there…”

“Come on, Kayla, give the guy a break.”

“Our son had to travel over ridiculously bumpy roads while trying to keep his wrist together. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“It does, but—”

“But what, Steve?” she said, cutting him off.

Kayla knew Steve well. He had the same look on his face that she’d noticed after he’d seen Bill the other day. He looked her squarely in the eye but said nothing.

Kayla set her glass down with such force that it nearly shattered. “Something’s going on, and you’re going to tell me!”

Steve stepped back in shock. “Okay, there is…But I promised Bill I’d give him a few days before I said anything,” Steve said. “I’m a man of my word, Sweetness.”

“You gave me your word you’d never lie to me,” she insisted.

“I haven’t lied,” Steve implored.

“If this is something I should know, it’s a lie of omission!”

Steve looked at her long and hard. He knew Kayla was right, and the last thing he ever wanted was to lie to her. He took a deep sigh.

“The money for the clinic is gone. Bill invested it with some creep who ended up being another Madoff. That’s why the extra supplies have been low—”

“And none of the repairs have been done,” she said aghast, finishing his sentence. Her eyes widened. “The new van?”

“Not gonna happen without a miracle.”

“When did you know that?” she asked, glaring at him.

“When I went over to his place,” Steve said, trying to defend himself. “The poor guy said he just needed a few weeks to get things in order.”

“A few weeks!” Kayla was horrified. “And when were you going to tell me all this, Steven?”

“Kayla, calm down.”

“I will not! We can’t stop providing services for these people. It’s life or death for some of them, for God’s sake.” She began to unspool. “Do we even have enough for the people who will show up tomorrow?”

She went and grabbed her purse from the entry table.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going back there.”

“Now?”

“No, in a month when the place is shuttered,” she said sarcastically. “And since we have no one to watch Joe, it’ll have to be you. If I can trust you.”

She pulled the keys from her handbag and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

“Well, that didn’t go well,” Steve said as he stared at the closed door.

The room felt emptier than ever. He and Kayla rarely had arguments in their marriage, much less a fight. And he knew her hurt and anger were warranted.

“Mommy?” Steve heard from the hallway, the sound breaking his reverie.

The noise has awakened Joe.

“Where’s Mommy?” Joe asked meekly as he entered from his room.

“She’ll be back soon, Bud,” Steve promised. “I’m sorry about all this. You know that, don’t you?”

Joe nodded slightly. Then his face screwed up and he began to sob. Over his son’s wailing, Steve heard Kayla’s Jeep tear out of the driveway.

So much for the serenity of Africa, Steve thought dryly as he went to comfort Joe.

“Rhino poaching,” John said under his breath as he entered the Londolani library. The plantation-shuttered room also served as the facility’s gift shop and business center.

None of the suites had wireless reception, and while John had brought his laptop with him, it was basically useless and he wanted to access the ISA computer bank in London now.

Besides, Marlena was out cold.

John’s mind was nothing if not analytical, and he weighed Jackson’s call carefully. Scarlett involved with rhino poachers? Was it actually true? Or was the desperate and drunk girl who had come on to him at the spa just screaming to her ex-boyfriend for attention?

If it was reality, someone at the game farm had to be involved because Scarlett and the others had only left the property together. And if it was someone at the game farm, any and all of them were in danger.

There was a Mac on one of the highly polished dark wood desks. John had learned much earlier that the best way to be inconspicuous was to hide in plain sight. So he slid onto the chair in front of the computer and logged on.

When he entered www.isa.int, the website for the International Security Alliance immediately appeared on the screen. He entered his user name and password but got the prompt “User Name or Password Incorrect.” After several attempts, he discovered his clearance had been blocked.

Trying another strategy, he typed the words “Rhino Poaching South Africa” into Google.

Within a nanosecond, dozens of articles appeared. While Brendan had made them all aware of the situation, John had had no idea of the depth and magnitude of the rampant slaughtering.

The demand for rhino horn had exploded. In the last year, it had escalated 3000 percent. The most recent article detailed the arrest of the eleven alleged poachers on New Year’s Day. The photo accompanying the report had been shot on the steps of the Johannesburg Central Police Station, which had once been the nerve center of apartheid repression.

Most of the eleven were well-dressed Caucasians with heads down and arms handcuffed behind them. A crowd watched as they were being escorted into the nondescript blue-and-white building.

John clicked on another story, equally disturbing, from several months earlier in which a half dozen others had been arrested for poaching. Again, a crowd watched as the men were being incarcerated.

John studied the photos for any clues they could offer. He paused at the sight of a striking Asian woman who appeared in each of the crowds.

Using a facial recognition application, he clicked on all of the images he felt were similar, and the software informed him that they were indeed a match. When he zoomed in on the grainy photos, he was startled to realize he knew the woman.

“Jiao-jie?” he gasped.

“Yes?” he heard from several feet away.

He turned to see that Jiao-jie and Wen were standing no more than ten feet away at the glass-encased jewelry display on the gift-shop counter.

“I thought I heard your voice.” John smiled as he calmly shut down the computer.

“We were going to ask Mr. Castle if he would like to use any of these in his shoot tonight,” Wen said, smiling. From the tone in Wen’s voice and his demeanor, John was certain they weren’t aware of what he’d discovered.

“They are beautiful,” John said.

“These would be especially lovely on your wife,” Jiao-jie said as she pointed to a pair of dazzling blue-diamond earrings she’d been admiring.

John took a look at the price and let out a whistle.

“Is that 1,600,000?”

“Rand,” Wen nodded. “Roughly 230,000 U.S. dollars.”

“We know you’re a man of taste and money,” Jiao-jie said with a smile.

Do they also know I’m former ISA? John wondered.

“And my wife would love these,” he admitted. “But that’s a little rich for her blood. And mine.”

“We’ve all got to make money somehow,” Wen said with a wink.

Yeah, and how are you doing it? John thought.

“Will we see you both at dinner?” Jiao-jie asked as she placed the diamonds back in the case.

“Not sure,” John admitted. “Marlena’s pretty exhausted.”

“Well, we hope to,” Jiao-jie added. “We have to check stock at our other venders so we won’t be on the game ride, but it would be lovely to see her again before we leave in the morning. She’s so charming and funny.”

“In case we miss you, do you have a card?” John asked.

“Absolutely,” Wen said as he took a card from his wallet.

“Thanks, Jiao-jie and Wen Xing,” John said as he read the card.

“Now you won’t forget us,” Jiao-jie said, smiling.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he assured them. “That’s definitely not going to happen.”